


Black is the colour of my True Love's hair

by cat_salad



Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M, Gen, Hair Braiding, Hair Brushing, Hair appreciation, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I have a thing for nice hair, I shit this out in 2 hours, Long Hair, Naruto has a thing for Hinata's hair, Why Did I Write This?, time lapse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 08:48:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13760514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cat_salad/pseuds/cat_salad
Summary: The old woman tells him that he will struggle for some time, which obviously disheartens such a young child, but she also tells him that he will one day become a great man, and that he will marry a woman with long, beautiful hair.





	Black is the colour of my True Love's hair

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to write some shiny hair!Hinata appreciation  
> I also have a headcannon that it was Naruto that spread the rumor that Sasuke likes girls with long hair. (and/or that it's actually Naruto that likes girls with long hair)

“You will marry a woman with long hair,” a gypsywoman tells him one day in his early years. He stares at her, his small hand palm-up in between both of her old wrinkled hands.  
  
He’d been following a bunch of kids a few seasons older than him, knowing to not get too close in case they noticed him and ran away, when they’d walked over to a travelling circus. As he’d wandered around the circus camp, looking at the dancing monkeys and flagwavers, the old gypsywoman had called him over from her stool next to her tent.  
  
Obviously she’s an outsider or else she would know not to talk with him. She certainly doesn’t look at him with scorn like the other villagers do when they think that he isn’t looking, so he walks over to her.  
  
The old woman —beads in her hair of turquoise and purple and orange colours, a few scraggely whiskers growing on her chin and golden weights in her ears, stretching her earlobes— tells him that he will struggle for some time, which obviously disheartens such a young child, but she also tells him that he will one day become a great man, and that he will marry a woman with long, beautiful hair.   
  


* * *

  
He remembers her words for a few weeks, lying in bed at night and eagerly looking forward to his amazing future, closing his eyes and dreaming of being the Hokage and everyone liking him, but naturally over the span of time he forgets her words, becomes bitter that his supposed good luck is not coming his way.  
  
So he tells the girls at the academy that the most popular boy in their class likes long hair. Maybe this way he will meet his future wife and speed up his luck?  
  
Either way it doesn’t work out.  
  
Ino has silvery blonde hair that swishes over her shoulders every time she moves her head to look back at Sasuke in class, and while it may look soft from his spot in the class, it reminds him too much of his own unruly blonde hair. He used to think that people with similar hair colours were naturally meant to be paired up (he cannot remember why he thought so; maybe someone had jokingly told him before) but alas, Ino and he may be loudmouths, but Ino is scary in ways which keep Naruto from approaching her.  
  
For the longest time, Naruto thinks that his future wife may be Sakura, because her hair is so pretty, even before she grew it out. It’s such a soft pink colour, feminine and she’s let him touch it before; it had felt thin and silky in his hands. In the light it makes him think of cherry blossoms, in the dark it makes him think of pink lips and kisses, and when it’s wet he thinks of the fleshy insides of a salmon fish. When they become a team, him, Sakura and Sasuke, she doesn’t mind him admiring her hair so much, but makes it clear to him that it’s all for Sasuke-kun’s sake.  
  
Months later, when their friendship has blossomed from the tiny bud it had been at the beginning, she teaches him how to braid her hair, how to get even the pink wispy bits up and out of her face so she can fight better. Sakura may have treated him with suspicion at first, but he’s nothing but persistent and stubborn, and soon she gave in to his curiosity. Maybe she missed that sort of bonding that she used to have with Ino.  Naruto still thinks that her hair is oh so pretty, even after she shears it short and it falls just past her jaw. (Later, she complains that it’s even harder to keep out of her eyes. Next mission, she brings a box of hairclips with her to secure her fringe to her headband).  
  
Naruto acknowledges that Sakura is not the one for him, or rather; that he is not the one for Sakura. Only Sasuke can heal Sakura’s wounds, however deep they may lie, Naruto can only distract her from them.

 

* * *

  
Years later, when he’s defeated Kaguya and battled with Sasuke and everyone wants to talk to the hero of the Allied Forces, he slips away from all the attention (the medics checking his wounds over the hundredth time that day, Gaara and the other Kage, Inari and all the other strangers and friends that he’s selflessly helped over the years during his missions and travels, the villagers who want to celebrate Uzumaki Naruto, jinchuuriki and hero) for a moment.  
  
He walks the graveyard, one sleeve swaying softly from the wind and his movements, limb absent in the garment from the elbow down. He wants a moment of quietness in his mind, and he cannot do it with all the people buzzing around him. He needs a moment to catch up with everything — the deaths, the victories, the memories, the injuries, the powers, the unusual yet flattering affection he’s being showered with from the villagers, nay, the whole world. He’s had to struggle for a long time, but here he is — a hero.  
  
It’s as he’s walking through the hero memorial section of the graveyard that he notices her.  
  
Her hair is long — it falls down to her lower back — and dark. Her hair is like a dark midnight blue silk, it cascades down her head like water and fans out over her shoulder and curtains the profile of her face from view, yet Naruto is breathlessly drawn to her beauty. Her hair is the colour of a rock pool at night. Her hair reminds him of the sky and the stars he used to look up to at night and pray that one day he would be happy.  
  
She’s poking lilyflowers into the vase by a grave, and through the gaps in her hair he can see her mouth in a small smile. He knows this young woman, remembers like a fever dream her hair glowing in the light while she fought an immense power with glowing chakra fists and passion burning in her soul, in her eyes like fire. He’d flown into a red-tinged rage of hatred and shock when she’d been hit, gone down hard on the ground in front of his eyes, the metal pipe sticking out of her chest and red red red —  
  
_“I love you,”_  
  
“Naruto-kun?” Hinata says, straightening up from where she’d been crouching by Neji’s grave, one hand reaching up to tuck her hair behind one ear, the swell of her cheek and the plush of her lips drawing his attention. Her locks caress her shoulder and displays her long pale neck, the beating pulse there. Her eyes, a pale sort of colour that makes him think of opals and pearls and the full moon, twinkle as she looks him right in the eyes.  
  
Naruto feels his face heat up. 

 

* * *

  
Years later she sits in front of the mirror in their boudoir while Naruto gently runs a brush through her hair, working out any kinks or knots he finds in her hair. Her hair is thick and his favourite thing is to run his fingers through her hair at night while they lay in bed in their own house, at peace. He loves her passion, her calm aura, the way that she’s always cared for him. She tells him that she loves it when he cares for her. She likes it when he pays attention to her. He braids her hair in a French plait and rolls the tail-ends up and pins it to her head to keep her neck clear and cool in the summer’s warmth, then leans down to kiss her cheek, making her giggle when his beard stubble tickles her neck.  
  
Through the years her hair fades, becomes lighter with the passing of time, as does his. She bears him a son and a daughter, and they inherit their fenotypical genes. A son with bright blonde hair and a daughter with inky black hair.  
  
One day, she stands before him, her hair barely touching her shoulders, a shy look on her face. “What do you think?” she asks shyly.  
  
Naruto looks at Hinata, his wife, the mother of his children, the bringer of light and calm to his days, and says “You’re beautiful,”.

**Author's Note:**

> "Black is the color of my true love's hair  
> Her face so soft and wondrous fair  
> The purest eyes  
> And the strongest hands  
> I love the ground on where she stands"  
> — Nina Simone
> 
> Title is taken from Nina Simone's song of the same name.


End file.
